Centurion
Dark Council Elite
~Bormah
Little Kaia hummed quietly as she sat at her father’s desk, drawing and coloring a plethora of things using the inks and paints Archaeus had recently purchased her; Sivaas, her iridescent, silvery, two foot long snake was the most prominent. The snake was, at that moment, slithering up around Kaia’s leg towards her arms. With the warm, soft, comforting southern breeze drifting through Archaeus’s room, it was as if the girl and her father were in paradise.
Though, in a way, the Silver Palace was paradise. With the royal spa just downstairs, the safety of the walls, and the friendship of Queen Leminth, Arch had secured himself a nice home for he and his daughter.
“Daddy?” the young girl lightly spoke, Archaeus looking up from the book he had been reading while sitting on the edge of his bed. Kaia’s soft brown hair seemed heavenly in the sun’s setting glow, the deep purple of her cloak amplified.
“Yes, love?” he asked, his normally gruff and firm voice turning soft and comforting. “Come look!” she replied in her soft and sweet voice. Arch smiled to her. His eye glanced to the silver serpent now twirling its way up Kaia’s left arm, his small triangular head coming to rest on her shoulder with a flick of his tongue. Archaeus lifted his legs from the soft red fabric of his bed, standing and striding across the white carpet and to his desk, where he saw what she had been working on; it was a small picture of he and her holding hands. Biting back the tears of pride he could feel swelling in his eyes, he stepped around the brown desk where Kaia ambushed him with a tight hug. Sivaas slithered down the little girl’s side, wrapping around her leg before he slid to the ground.
Then Arch felt the explosion, heard Kaia whimper, and the hug tighten out of fear. He heard the shouting of Jaime and David from the floor below them, with a brief rattle of their armor before they went silent. Just before the sounds of several men stomping up the stairs became prominent, Arch’s left hand shot to the metal gauntlet resting on the side of his desk not occupied by Kaia’s art, sliding his hand in and knocking a bottle of ink over in the process and spilling across Kaia’s pictures. The little girl hurried her hands to help her father fasten the straps on his metallic hand, securing it in to place. With a clench of his fist to be sure it was set correctly; he spoke softly but with force to his daughter.
“Hide now, Kaia.” She ducked below the desk just before the door to the room crumpled in, breaking from its hinges and being trampled by a group of four men clad in black robes as they rushed in.
With a shout of surprise, anger, and fear, Arch brought his now-metal left hand around and straight in to the jaw of the man closest to him, his black hood fluttering off to reveal a young face; a boy with black hair and eyes. From the corner of his eye he saw another man leap at him; turning towards him, Archaeus brought his metal clad fist up and in to this man’s ribs. He heard the crumpling of the man’s ribcage, whipping his fist out as fast as he had thrown it.
With a pained grunt, Arch’s right side was hit with a staff. “Sivaas! Krii!” Arch heard the shout of his daughter’s command, turning to see why she had shouted it. One of the men was standing over the desk she had hidden below, and Archaeus saw the silvery tail of the snake glide up his left leg. With another blow from the staff, Arch’s right knee caved from behind, leaving him unprepared for the next strike aimed at the back of his head. He saw Sivaas rip in to the neck of the now-screaming and scrambling man near his daughter before he slipped from conscious, another blow connecting with the back of his head.
Seemingly, a few seconds passed before Archaeus’s eye opened. It took a moment for him to focus on the light brown fibers of the sack he was in. With a jolt of newfound adrenaline, he tried to bring his hands up from his waist – to no avail. He was bound at the wrists and ankles, he could feel; with a belt around his waist and forearms to keep him almost entirely immobile.
When he tried to kick his feet, he found that he wasn’t on the ground – he was suspended by the sack he was in, and a cold sweat broke as he realized he was completely and utterly trapped. When he tried to shout, he felt the gag tied around his mouth. Like a war hammer the back of his head’s throbbing hit him.
After a minute, and hour – he couldn’t tell – he felt whatever he was hung from shake slightly, followed by the sounds of a wagon rolling across gravel. The bumpy ride went on for hours. Perhaps days? Arch couldn’t keep track of the time; he slipped in and out of consciousness intermittently. After awhile, the clattering of the wagon came to a sudden stop.
After that, it was silent. Arch took advantage of it; closing his eyes voluntarily this time, keeping his breathing slow and steady. In his mind, his Hospitaller training kicked in. He assessed the situation. Bound at the wrists and ankles by… rope. Not chain. There was a belt tightly fit around his abdomen. This time he felt thin ropes in his armpits, and, along with it, suddenly felt the weight of his body hung by said ropes. He reopened his eye and sighed lightly. Completely trapped, and no way out of it.
Well, maybe not completely.
~Monah
Archaeus began to sway himself. With each swing of his legs, he felt the sack he was in swing. Painfully lifting his head, he tried to see what suspended him, and he did. A meat hook was just above his head, going through the sack’s tied up top. After a few minutes of grinding the apparently dull hook, Arch felt the sack finally split at the top. He clenched everything in his body to brace for the impact, expecting to land on his back. He did.
With a hearty thud on the wooden base of the carriage, his expectations of an angry shout were met with, yes, and angry shout. Archaeus figured, based on the footsteps approaching, that two people were headed to investigate. After a slight pause in the footfalls, Archaeus heard the loud click of a lock being undone followed by a large wooden door being swung open.
Pain shot through his left side as he was forcefully kicked, followed by a quiet muttering from his captors. “Mok,” the voice spoke. Dark elven. Arch could tell by the pitch of the voice and the lack of accent. He couldn’t make out the rest of the sentence, however. The delf spoke too quietly.
After a few moments of silence between them, Arch watched as a thin blade cut in to his sack just a millimeter from his face, cutting it open down to his chest. It was then that the scent hit him. He shut his eyes and tried his hardest to look dead, but it was hard to remain perfectly still and silent with the smell of rotting bodies surrounding him, seeming to even penetrate his body.
There was more whispering, but it was cut short by a squelching noise from both of the delves standing over him. He grunted as one of their bodies collapsed over his chest, knocking the air out of him. His eye glanced up and out in to the thick forest, barely glimpsing silvery blonde hair. Leminth? He thought. She came for me? Impossible. Archaeus struggled under the weight of the snowy haired delf on top of him, before the thwack of another arrow hit the wooden floor of the covered wagon just next to him. He immediately stopped moving, playing dead once more.
“Go ahead, check it. Looks like those two were the only guards,” Archaeus heard a thickly western accented man’s voice say. It seemed oddly… familiar, but Arch couldn’t place who the voice matched to. He heard the rustling of cloth on thrush as he once more spiraled in to unconsciousness.
When he came to this time, he was tied up over the back of a horse. As the brown mare trotted, every slight bounce was felt in the back of his head. Struggling to move his sore neck, he weakly looked up from the flank of the horse. Still in the forest, though more fog had gathered. He could make out the faint glow of light-bugs shining through. Arch felt the figure controlling the horse shuffle slightly, muttering something Archaeus barely made out.
“Still can’t believe it,” the voice spoke. The same one from before, the thick western accent. Still Archaeus felt like the man the voice belonged to was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t place it. Not with anyone alive, at least. Archaeus must have thought a bit too hard, because after a moment he found himself consumed by the darkness once more.
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